


One Night Stand

by LadyFogg



Series: The Reader Professor Series [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: College AU, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Language, NSFW, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, professor/student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the night before classes start and you’ve had a dry spell all summer. You decide to have some fun with an incredibly attractive young man you meet at the bar. If only the universe didn’t hate you so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Stand

Classes start again tomorrow.

You take a moment to order another shot from the surly looking bartender. You love summer. It’s the main reason why you went into teaching. Lord knows the money wasn’t it. You teach drama at the local state college and though it’s something you enjoy immensely, you enjoy the freedom of the summers more.

“You sure you should be having another?” the bartender asks after you down the one he brings and motion for yet one more.

You shoot him an annoyed look. “If I want to get drunk then I’m going to,” you tell him. “I know my limits. Another round.”

The guy looks like he’s going to protest, but he really has no reason to. You haven’t had any more than the other people at the bar and you’re not making a scene or anything of that nature. The only reason he’s asking is because you’re a woman in a tight dress drinking alone. A woman who can take care of herself. So he pours you another shot and steps back.

It’s getting later in the night and the bar begins to fill.

You look around at the crowd, mostly out of boredom. You were hoping to have one unattached romp this summer, but you’ve been through a bit of a dry spell. This bar seems just as boring as the others you have been to and decide to stay only another hour or so before heading home. You notice the crowd is a bit younger than usual, and you realize it’s because the students are back. Lovely. Now you’re going to have to avoid this place until next summer. It’s the closest one to your apartment and the thought of going somewhere else annoys you.

You turn back to face forward and lean on the bar top, your chin propped up in your hand. Your eyes focus on the small TV hanging over the bar, but you barely pay attention to what’s going on. It’s some game. You don’t even care enough to figure out which sport.

Someone comes up to stand next to you, and you wait for the inevitable. But the person doesn’t hit on you or even try to get your attention.

You notice them wave at the bartender. You also notice the bartender pretend not to see. Asshole.

“Excuse me? Can I get some service?” the person calls. His voice is deep and something about it sends a little tingle through you. You had no interest before, but now you’re a little curious. You sneak a quick peek, under the pretense of tucking your hair behind your ear.

He’s younger than you. Much younger than you. But handsome. So fucking handsome. You guess him to be around twenty-two, old enough to drink but not old enough to know how to get a drink at a bar.

“Bartender!” you snap, causing the employee to immediately look your way. He’s busy chatting up two very flirty women at the other end, who are clearly trying to swindle him out of free drinks. Kudos to them, but it’s preventing him from doing his job. “Another shot for me!” You gesture to the young man standing next to you. “And how about paying attention to this end of the bar, huh?”

The man gives you a murderous look, which you return with a simple eyebrow raise and a wave of a ten dollar bill. That’s enough to get him to drag himself down to your end. He pours you your shot before taking the young man’s drink order.

“Thanks for that,” the young man says to you as the bartender shuffles away to get the proper drinks.

“Don’t mention it,” you tell him with a wave of your hand. “Unless you have a pair of tits and a plunging neckline, most bartenders rarely look your way.”

The young man gives a deep laugh, one that makes your lips curl into a smile and your heart thump a little harder against your ribcage. “A sad but true fact.”

You introduce yourself and extend your hand towards him. He grins back. “Ryan,” he says, shaking your hand. He has a firm grip. Excellent.

“So, _Ryan_ ,” you say, elongating his name just enough to send a slight blush across his cheeks. “Those are a lot of drinks for just one person.” You reach for your shot but don’t down it this time. Instead you let the tips of your fingers circle the rim of the glass.

“I don’t drink actually,” he says, leaning his back against the bar, his elbows resting on the spotted surface. “My friends were all too nervous to come ask for their own drinks.”

This intrigues you and you chuckle. “Why? The bartender isn’t _that_ intimidating.”

Ryan glances over at the man who is currently still mixing the drinks he ordered. You wonder if he’s taking his sweet time because you made him stop talking to those two girls. Probably. “It’s not him they are intimidated by.”

When his gaze meets yours pointedly, you raise your eyebrow in surprise. “You mean they are intimidated by me?”

At this Ryan gives you a look that says quite plainly “Obviously”.

You suspected as much. You tend to give off that vibe. Maybe it’s your overall “Don’t talk to me” attitude, or the fact that you naturally scowl when you’re deep in thought or concentrating on something. It doesn’t help that you’re dressed in your best “little black dress” with matching stilettos. “You don’t seem to find me intimidating,” you point out.

“Should I?”

Oh you like him. He’s being cheeky. You can tell by the flirty half-smile and blue eyes that are completely focused on yours. If you could drown in those eyes, you definitely would. You did come out to have fun. He’s certainly the most interesting prospect you’ve had all night. Well, all summer really.

“That really depends,” you say back, shooting him a sidelong glance.

“On?”

“On your level of confidence.”

His smirk widens and you see him duck his head as his cheeks turn redder than before. He really is making this all too easy. He’s some how straddling the line between self-assured and dorky, which not many people can do. “I’d say I have pretty good confidence,” he says.

You laugh at this, turning on your stool to face him properly. “Do you now?”

He glances back up at you and suddenly the shy, blushing boy is gone. Instead the look he fixes you with is almost predatory. “I can show you. If you’d like.”

You pretend to contemplate this, dragging your fingers along the rim of your shot glass once more. His eyes are immediately drawn to the action and you see his pupils dilate. His eyes then are drawn to your lips and you can practically feel his heart skip a beat when you let your tongue slide across your lips under the pretense of wetting them. Who cares if he’s younger than you? You deserve to have a bit of fun.

Without a word you down the shot and hop off the stool. You take his hand and lead him away from the bar, missing the bartender as he places Ryan’s order on the counter. You can tell he’s motioning towards his friends to let them know he’s leaving, and you smirk as you hear the shouts and catcalls from them and Ryan’s mumbled, “God damn it, shut up.”

Not much talking happens on the walk to your apartment. His hand is holding yours tightly and he tangles his fingers with yours, an action that sends a shot of affection through you.

You lead him upstairs, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You’ve had just the right amount to drink. The alcohol is making everything bright and warm, a smirk permanently fixed on your face. Your body is so tightly wound that you can’t wait for him to put his hands on you. Your door is at the end of the hall and you take your time unlocking it as Ryan shoves his hands in his pockets. You motion for him to follow you inside. He barely manages to get a quick look around your apartment as you close the door before you’re pushing him against it and crushing your lips to his.

His hands immediately come to rest on your waist and you feel his fingers dig into you slightly as you slide your tongue into his willing mouth. One of your hands finds it’s way under his dark green shirt, and you revel at the shudder that passes through his body. His kisses are just as urgent as yours and you feel no hesitancy or awkwardness. Suddenly, your world spins and you’re the one pressed against the door, his once stationary hands traveling down to shove the hem of your dress up so he can feel the smooth skin of your thighs and hips.

The change is nice. You’re always the one to take charge and any other day you’d welcome the switch in roles. But not tonight.

You push him away slightly so you can catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours as he tries to do the same thing, his hands still gently running across your warm skin. “Bedroom?” he offers.

“This way.”

As much as you hate to break contact with him, the idea of taking him into your room is too appealing to give up and you seize his hand once more and lead him through your messy apartment. Once your bed comes into view, he lets go of your hand, but it’s only so he can grab you by the waist and crush your back against his chest. You can feel his arousal through his jeans and smirk, reaching back between your bodies to palm him through the material.

He lets out a low moan that makes your toes curl.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he purrs into your ear before making a trail of hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

Oh sweetie.

You pull away and turn to face him. Now that you’re looking at him up close, it’s even more striking how handsome he is. You feel like he has one of those faces that is only going to get better with age. “Nothing,” you tell him. A flash of confusion passes over his face, but then you’re grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him onto the bed. His back hits the soft surface and he bounces slightly, his eyes wide with surprise. You quickly step out of your heels and shrug out of your dress, before you move to straddle his waist. “But I am going to _devour_ you.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat that can only be described as a mix between a moan and a whimper. “Yes please.”

You can’t help but giggle. You lift yourself so you can reach the hem of his shirt and you push the garment up. He moves to assist you and the shirt is sent flying across the room. Your lipstick leaves streaks of red along his chest as you trail kisses down his body. His hands reach out to move your hair out of your face so he can see you and you shoot him a heated look, your hand snaking downwards until you’re rubbing him through his jeans again.

His hips instantly jerk to move along with you, but you press your body down against him so he can’t move much. He bites his lip in anticipation. When your hand leaves his bulge to reach for his zipper, he sucks in a breath.

You continue your kisses, this time backtracking over the trail you made only moments ago. It gives you enough time to work his zipper and push his jeans down. He kicks them away impatiently and they fall to the floor along with his shoes, immediately forgotten. He’s not wearing underwear, a fact you find delightfully sinful. When your fingers wrap around his cock, you can feel him practically shaking with anticipation. “P-Please don’t tease me.”

Aww, that’s really cute.

“I have no intention of teasing you,” you tell him huskily, moving back down to settle between his legs.

Whatever his response is, it’s drowned out by a loud moan as you wrap your lips around his swollen tip. True to your word, you don’t tease him. Instead you work your mouth up and down on his shaft fervently as his hands move to bury themselves in your hair. From the noises he’s making, you can tell you’re doing a great job.

All the sexual frustration you’ve been building up all summer is reaching its peak and you are too eager and drunk to bother with more foreplay. When he slips from your mouth, he gives an audible whine. You push your thong down impatiently and he sits up to help you unclip your bra. As your breasts bounce free from their confines, his hands gingerly move to cup them. His lips greedily wrap around one nipple as he massages you, easing away the soreness your push up bra has caused.

His cock is pressed firmly between your legs and you grind down against him. You’re so wet that the movement is almost effortless and causes you both to moan with longing. His mouth is busy worshiping your breasts and you let him, continuing your dance on his lap until you catch him at just the right angle and take him into your body in a smooth stroke.

His mouth stops then, his forehead coming to rest against your chest as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips once more. You’re beginning to love the feeling of his hands grabbing you. It’s like he wants to make sure he’ll never let you go. “Fuck.”

You chuckle, giving his hair a slight tug so he looks up at you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and he kisses you deeply as you begin to rise and fall on his lap.

You can feel yourself physically melt against him, your body setting its own pace as he moves along with you. All the tension and build up is slowly fading and you lose yourself in the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth and his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and increasing urgency. He lays back, bringing you with him so that you’re laying on top of him. His hands take over the movements your hips started and he’s soon pounding up into you deeply, as you both grunt and moan into each other’s mouths.

When you need to catch your breath, you pull back, taking over once more and riding him with complete abandon and satisfaction. He looks up at you with a mixture of lust and awe, biting that delicious lip again every time you teasingly swirl your hips. You long to drag your tongue and teeth along it once more.

You can feel your orgasm building slowly and you know you’ll never get there at your current angle, so you lean forward and lock your knees on either side of his hips. He feels the movement and follows through with it, rolling you onto your back. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and he pounds into you desperately, raining kisses and small bites on the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your pleasure finally reaches its peak and you come with a loud wail, arching your back as you ride out the continual waves of pleasure. Ryan grunts in triumph before slamming into you twice more, reaching his own pleasurable and messy end.

His arms are shaking as he slumps against you, his hot breath ghosting across your skin as he pants heavily.

You both are silent for a few moments. Your brain is still slightly foggy from the shots you downed, but it only makes you feel more relaxed and giddy. “Your confidence…is well earned…” you pant, pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

Ryan chuckles. “Glad you think so.”

He carefully eases himself out of you before collapsing onto the mattress next to you. You allow yourself a luxurious stretch, a large grin plastered across your face. Your body feels deliciously at ease and you turn on your side to face the young man in your bed. You don’t bother pulling up the blanket. You’re too warm for such things and you have nothing to hide. “Do you have to get back to your friends?”

Ryan remains stationary on his stomach, his face turned towards you and his right hand coming up to lightly touch your cheek. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

You instinctively turn into the touch. “Depends,” you say coyly. “How’s your stamina?”

Ryan grins and pushes himself up slightly, leaning over you so his lips are just inches away from yours. “Let’s find out together.”

\--

The alarm beeps annoyingly and white-hot pain instantly shoots through your head as your eyes open.

The room is flooded with bright light and you bury your head under the pillow. You reach blindly for your alarm, only to send the thing tumbling to the floor. At least it stops making noise. You let out a groan of pain. Okay, you may not have had too much to drink, but the lack of food and water in your system was a really stupid move on your part. You peek out from under the pillow at the spot next to you on the bed. It’s empty.

Thank god.

The next morning is always awkward after a one night stand. So much so that you rarely ever let them spend the night. Ryan was a nice exception however. And god damn does that young man have stamina. You allow yourself to remember every detail from the night before, though it’s all really just a haze of hard kisses, gyrating hips and rough, curious hands.

You try to push away the hangover as you stumble out of bed and get ready for your class.

Despite getting up on time (for once) you’re still almost late.

The campus is busy with people trying to find their classes for the first time and you push past them impatiently, trying to make your way across campus. You walk into your classroom at 8:05am, trying to pretend like you aren’t out of breath and completely hungover. You know the sunglasses you’re wearing are a dead giveaway, but your level of fucks you give is completely gone for the moment.

“Morning,” you say impatiently to the students who immediately stop talking when you enter. “I’m sure we all have long days ahead of us, so I’ll make this first class brief. You will notice you all have the class syllabus in your school email. It’s pretty straightforward. This is Theatrical Production, On and Off Stage. What we do is we’re responsible for organizing and putting on a play each semester. You can get credit not only for how many hours you contribute to the show, but also how much effort you put in. If you show up to every class and rehearsal, do what you have to do and do it well, we’ll get along just fine.”

You drop your bag on the floor next to your chair and sit down in your seat, propping your feet up on the scratched surface of the desk. You dig around for your tablet as you continue. “You don’t participate in any way, you don’t get credit. Sound easy enough?”

There are murmurs of agreement from the group in front of you and you barely spare them a look as you pull up your class list on the device in your hands. “I’m going to do roll call, you guys can ask me any questions you have and then we can all get the fuck out of here. Sound good?”

You try not to wince as you swear. You always forget your class is a mix of upperclassmen and freshmen. The freshmen always gasp when you swear. It’s a habit you’ve tried for many years to break and have apparently failed to do so. You take your sunglasses off and place them on the desk in front of you before running a hand through your hair. You must look like crap. Thankfully your students are smart enough not to point it out.

You start going through the names, marking the box next to them on your tablet when they respond. It’s a long list this year and you hope it stays that way. The list always starts long, but then seems to dwindle as the drop-off period draws closer.

“James Haywood.”

“It’s Ryan, actually.”

That voice. That all too familiar voice.

Uh oh.

UH OH.

You freeze instantly and glance up. There he is. Right in the fucking middle of the fucking front row. He’s only just a few feet away. How did you miss him when you came in? You know your cheeks are reddening, if his smug smirk is any indication.

Oh no.

OH NOOOOOOO.

You quickly move onto the next name on the list as if his presence didn’t just throw you for a loop. Your body doesn’t seem to care that your mind is panicking because it instantly warms from the memory of his touch and kisses.

You go through the rest of the list as quickly as possible and ask if there are any questions.

Of course there are. There are always the same questions that first class. When are auditions? What show are we doing? Do we have to participate in the play? You answer them quickly and firmly, leaving no room for arguments. You never do.

You notice Ryan’s hand is raised and you bite back a sigh as you nod towards him.

“Are you okay, _Professor?_ You look _tired_.”

“I’m fine, Haywood,” you say with a slight bite to your voice. “Next question.” What an ass.

Someone raises their hand in the back and you answer their inquiry. It’s one you’ve already answered, but you let it slide because you want to try to ignore the young man in front of you. Your efforts prove to be in vain because Ryan raises his hand again.

“What, Haywood?” you ask, a little meaner than you intend.

“What are your office hours?”

Good, a legitimate question. “I don’t have any,” you tell him. “If I’m there you can come in and ask questions.”

“So your door’s always open?”

You don’t like the innuendo and you try so hard not to glare at him. His large grin is infuriating, mainly because he _knows_ he’s getting under your skin. It’s then that you notice he has a bag of some kind of snacks in his hand. “There’s no eating in my class, Haywood.”

Ryan just grins wider and throws you a wink. “I’m sure you’ll make an exception for me.”

Okay. Class over.

“Alright, we’re done here for today,” you say, putting your boots on the floor and heaving yourself out of your desk chair. “See you all Wednesday.” Students begin to gather their things and some are already heading out the door. Ryan makes a move to stand. “Not you, Haywood. I need to speak to you.” The tone is anything but neutral. You’re clearly angry and the other students shoot Ryan a worried look before hurrying to leave. They’re scared of you. Good.

As the last student hurries out the door, you come around the front of your desk and sit on top of it. “So this is awkward.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” Ryan says with a shrug. He gets up from his desk and abandons his snack to come towards you.

You immediately put your hand out to stop him before he even reaches halfway. “Nope. Right there is close enough.”

“It wasn’t close enough for you last night,” he says.

“Alright, listen,” you say rubbing your eyes tiredly. You’re too tired and hungover to deal with this right now. “You’re my student, apparently. I think it goes without saying that no one can know about what happened last night.”

“Obviously,” Ryan says with a shrug, taking a few more steps towards you. “But I know what happened last night. And you do too. I wanted to have a repeat this morning, but you were still asleep when I got up.”

“Ryan,” you say warningly.

“Professor.”

For some reason him calling you that sends a thrill through you that makes you scold yourself. “You’re really enjoying my embarrassment, aren’t you?”

He laughs. “So, so much,” he says. He wags his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll show you out, Haywood,” you say motioning to the door. You grab your stuff before you cross the room, purposely standing by the door with your hand on the doorknob.

“Hint taken,” Ryan says, raising his hands in defense. He turns to scoop his belongings off the desk and into his messenger bag. “Just know I was really pissed I didn’t get your number before I left. I had a fun time.”

“I know you did,” you say, allowing yourself a smirk. He walks towards the door, but right before he can leave, you close it, trapping him against the wooden frame. He looks at you with wide eyes and you press your body against his, earning a sharp gasp of surprise. “If you’re going to try and tease someone, you should know who you’re dealing with first.”

His bag falls to the floor and he reaches up to cup your face, leaning forward to kiss you. You stop him, pressing a gentle finger to his lips.

“Maybe later,” you say, knocking his hands away from your face. You let your hand fall between you and give the front of his jeans a firm rub just as you did the night before. He lets out a low moan before swallowing thickly. Immediately you feel him harden under your touch. “See you Wednesday, Haywood.”

You pull away and open the door, strolling out into the hallway as if nothing just happened. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, watching you walk away. You can just picture him standing there in the doorway, aroused and aching as his eyes follow your movements down the hall. You don’t even spare him a backwards glance.

This is going to be an interesting semester.


End file.
